


Shawty, I don't mind

by dantetrieswriting



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Stripping, i'll add the songs used in the beginning of every ch, idk how to tag this, learning to love, mediocre descriptions of dancing, so you can listen to them and get the feel y'know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:25:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantetrieswriting/pseuds/dantetrieswriting
Summary: "I'm not going home with you tonight."The man laughs and shakes his head, quirks one eyebrow up and gives a cocky smile."Wasn't planning on it.""You paid 5000 for an hour so I'm not sure what you're expecting here."He laughs again and clicks his tongue."Just a dance from the hottest guy in the club, sweetheart."Or the one where Isak strips to pay for college and Even teaches him about something no school can. Isak loves his job and learns to love others and above all, himself.





	Shawty, I don't mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm I'm trying something different.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> Tove Lo - Talking Body  
> Trey Songz - Slow Motion  
> Ray J ft. Yung Berg - Sexy Can I

_Bed_

_Stay in bed_

_The feeling of your skin locked in my head_

Slow steps, two forward, one foot straight before the other. A small sway of hips and a teasing smirk.

_Smoke_

_Smoke me broke_

_I don't care I'm down for what you want_

Legs wider, fingers trailing down his lips, chin and torso slowly as his body rolls like a wave, smooth and clean, cheers already heard over the blaring tune.

_Day drunk into the night_

_Wanna keep you here_

_Cause you dry my tears, yeah_

Sway side to side, slow and steady, keep them on their toes.

_Summer lovin' and fights_

_How it is for us_

_And it's all because_

A bit bolder as the bass picks up, one more circle to push his hips back before the drop.

_Now if we're talking body_

_You got a perfect one_

Drop down, knees wide as the bills keep rolling in.

_So put it on me_

_Swear it won't take you long_

Hands on the floor and ass in the air as the tips get doubled and his teasing grin grows.

_If you love me right_

_We fuck for life_

_On and on and on..._

-

When his usual show is over, Isak goes to the back, already counting the bills in his hands. 2300. He chuckles to himself. He knows what they like. Knows every trick and move to have them sweating in their seats, throwing him all their child support savings and beer money. Sometimes he feels bad for the poor bastards. But not tonight. It's a good night, so he waits around for another ten minutes after stacking the cash securely in his wallet. He's not keen on grinding on some old greasy dude, but perhaps there'll be a regular. The ecstatic feeling that runs through his veins is too good to give up just yet. So he milks it. Sits down in front of the mirror, yellow lights casting reflections on the gold glitter on his cheeks. He pulls a tissue from a nearby box, pats away the sweat and stray shimmer, runs his fingers through his curls a few more times until he hears the clink of Sara's heels down the hall, knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

The door opens and some of the pink light flows into the dim dressing room, a woman shaped shadow on the floor.

"There's a guy asking a dance from you specifically. Paid 5000. Be careful and call if he tries anything, okay? Be safe."

Isak nods and she leaves.  _Damn._ 5000 for an hour of hands-off dancing doesn't really sound like what the guy seems to have in mind. Isak sighs and prepares for the worse, gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror and locks the door behind him.

When he walks in, the guy is already comfortable on the leather couch, legs wide and sleeves rolled up his forearms. And yes, he's wearing a fucking suit. It's the first thing Isak notices. The clean-cut pants and clean white shirt with the top buttons popped open. There's a jacket next to him, probably discarded due to the heat in the cramped room. Isak walks closer, focusing on the sway of his hips as he takes the man in from up close. Blonde hair combed back in a quiff, strong cheekbones, plush lips and eyes either grey or blue- it's unclear in the lighting- are looking up at him with something predatory. Almost threatening. So Isak keeps his gaze, taking one more step before he's stood a bare few inches away from the man's parted legs.

"Hi."

"Hey, sweetheart. You look even better up close."

Isak rolls his eyes.

"I'm not going home with you tonight."

The man laughs and shakes his head, quirks one eyebrow up and gives a cocky smile.

"Wasn't planning on it."

"You paid 5000 for an hour so I'm not sure what you're expecting here."

He laughs again and clicks his tongue.

"Just a dance from the hottest guy in the club, baby."

Jesus, the pet names are probably the worst things about private shows. 

"If you say so. Just a quick recap of the rules: no touching, kissing or getting off before I leave."

"Bossy, I like it."

Isak snorts but keeps his mouth shut. He reaches over to the small stereo on the shelf and presses the button. He's more than pleased at Sara's choice of playlist, the slow notes of the first song masking the faint traffic noises coming from the small window and the clink of his heels against the concrete floor.

_I know you got all dressed up for the club_

He takes the last step forward with the first line, hips moving from side to side as they did before on the stage, only smaller. More teasing. The rhythm of the song fits perfectly with the way his hands glide down his body, a taste of something more that gets the man to gasp in a breath. It surges confidence in Isak and he gets his knees on both sides of the man's thighs, spread wide as he stretches his arms in the air and throws his head back to bare his sharp collarbones and the long expanse of his porcelain neck. 

_Baby, I just wanna get you out them clothes_

_I just wanna see you dance in slow motion_

The way the man's arms stretch out on the back of the couch as Isak rolls his hips to the chorus is almost frustrating. The way he gets off purely on looking at Isak's body without the itch to touch is new. The parted lips and deep gasps, eyes fixed on his body only. Like a predator watching its prey. 

Isak slips off his lap, stretches his legs out once he's got his feet firmly on the floor, torso following a second or two after, relishing in the way the guy's gaze follows his every move. Eats him up with his eyes alone. Ańd Isak turns around, gives a reason for his next low moan with an arch of his back, palms gliding over his ass, back of his thighs before coming back to the front and travel down, bending forward and earning another groan. The next song flows in, an ideal sequence.

_Sexy can I, just pardon my manners_

And Isak lets it take his body, move him with practised ease, slipping in every trick and surprise, giving the man a time for his money. And judging by the wrecked state he's in without even being touched, Isak is sure that it's working.

-

A sweatshirt is not enough to cover him from the wind. He should know that. Yet here he is in his black skinny jeans and a black jumper, shivering in the tram stop with his bag slung across his shoulder, waiting for the first round of the morning. It's been five minutes but he's ready to get home and curl up in his duvet, put on some nice music and take a proper shower. And he's even more ready for that when a small group of guys approaches him, all of them clearly drunk, barely stable and reeking of alcohol.

"Hhey pretty boy! How much for a night?" one of them slurs and Isak rolls his eyes, moving a few inches away from the approaching guys.

"Not a prostitute. Go try your luck elsewhere."

They just laugh and subtly set their party around Isak, successfully trapping him against the metal pole.  _Ironic._ He knows that he could take down three drunk men, especially in the state they're in, but violence is his last resort. Besides, he's exhausted from the club, working until fucking 6 AM only to have people like this join him on the way home.

"Look, honey," a guy with a bald head begins, a sleazy moustache above his upper lip, "We're the ones who get you your paycheck. The least you could do is put out for a night."

Isak feels utterly disgusted now and he has no intention to hide it.

"You? Really? Because a guy came in earlier and paid 5000 for an hour. Dancing. I'm pretty sure that's more than what you scrape together for child support every month. So don't think so highly of yourself and let one of your mates here jack off your two inches instead, okay? Well, my ride is here. Hope I don't see you again!"

Isak uses the few seconds of stunned silence to push himself through them and step on the arrived tram. Finally, some fucking warmth. The flickering light on the tram is almost too much, given that Isak spent the past six hours in a place where you can't really see further than five feet, and mornings in November are dark in Oslo. So he can't really control it when his eyes scrunch up as soon as he steps in, the vehicle already near packed with people going to work as Isak is leaving his. He tries to keep his eyes on the ground and avoid eye contact with anyone at all costs when he hooks his fingers in the leather handle above him. The man next to him smells awfully lot like the entire being of Sara's Angels and oh fuck. Is that- gold glitter on those pants and. Those shoes. And Isak wants to restrain himself from looking up, yet his curiosity gets the best of him and his eyes widen exactly as the blues looking back at him get some incredibly cocky expression in them. And then the man fucking smirks at him and Isak wants do physically throw himself under the same fucking tram he's in.

The guy is fucking hot and Isak feels dirty just looking at him. A man who has 5000 kroner to throw on a stripper. One who wears a suit while doing so. And Isak can't believe he actually flaunted his half-naked body to him just an hour prior. Can't believe that someone who looks like  _that_ and has a wallet like that would waste his money on sad little Isak with daddy issues. But thank god the speaker announces his stop and cuts off Isak's train of self-deprecating thoughts before he starts crying in front of all these people.

The chilly air hits him in the face like an icy brick, and he groans. He needs a fucking coat. 

The flat is silent, everyone still asleep, so Isak toes off his sneakers as quietly as he can, tiptoeing his way to the bathroom, throwing his bag into his room on the way and grabbing clothes. The cruel bathroom mirror tells him that he still has a fuckton of glitter all over his face and hair as well as his clothes and well isn't that just great? He pulls them all off, glances down and even his dick has shimmer on it and that actually makes Isak giggle. Maybe that's the sleep deprivation kicking in. 

He steps under the warm spray of water and lets it wash off every spilt drink and sticky bill, all the fucking glitter and greasy men ogling him like a piece of meat. He stands there until he nearly trips over from exhaustion. Dries off and pulls on a pair of sweats. With a hint of silver glitter.  _Literally what the fuck?_ Walks back to his room carefully, pulls out some money and packs it in an envelope that he addresses to Eskild and throws it on the table next to the front door. And then finally all but throws himself onto the mattress and passes out in no more than five minutes.


End file.
